
Class 

Book. 

Copyright]^? 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



TREE-TOP MORNINGS 



TREE-TOP MORNINGS 



By 
ETHELWYN WETHERALD 




THE CORNHILL PUBLISHING CO. 
BOSTON 



Copyright 1921 
By THE CORNHILL PUBLISHING CO. 







V? 






©CU654225 



Printed in the United States of America 

DEC 29 1921 

"WO 1 



TO DOROTHY. 

One bright morning a year ago, when I said 
Good-bye in a Run-along-now-as-I-am-very-busy 
tone of voice, you turned to me with tears ex- 
claiming : "When you send me off to school with- 
out one happy word it makes my feelings feel 
bad !" And so My Dorothy— My Little Heart— 
I am inscribing all these happy words to you, in 
the hope that they will make your feelings feel 
good. 

ETHELWYN WETHERALD. 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Tree-Top Mornings i 

The Wise Frogs . . 2 

Somebody's Birthday 3 

The Orphan Drake 4 

The Laughing Crow 5 

Apple Blossom Time ....... 6 

Four Classes of Children ...... 7 

The Skipping Rope Girl ..... 8 

Real Chickenheartedness ..... 9 

Under the Apple Tree ...... 10 

A Mental Family Tree 11 

Going to the Country ...... 13 

Tastes Differ 14 

The Whity Pinky Pig 15 

A Devoted Mother 16 

The Naughty Parrot 17 

The Rain-pipe and the Roof .... 18 

All Outdoors 19 

vii 



CONTENTS 

Page 

By Sea and Lake 20 

The Warning 21 

When Dimplefeet Was Cupid .... 22 

In the Water 23 

Helping a Little 25 

Song of a Spoon 26 

The Cheerful Ducks .27 

When Teddy Went to the Woods ... 28 

Pussy's Lesson 29 

A Little City Child 30 

Doll's Slumber Song 31 

The Cicada 32 

Little Millionaires 33 

The Snapping Turtle 34 

A Funny Child 35 

A Rhyming Mother 36 

Plain Jane 37 

Playing Tame Bear 38 

Little Joe and the English Language . 39 

The Baby Who Was Three-fourths Good 40 

The Leaves 41 

The Lost Maple 42 

viii 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Professor Goodfellow 43 

Tommy's Predicament 44 

When Our Cheese Is Done .... 45 

Welcome Home 47 

The Followers 48 

A Big Bedtime 49 

Going A- Nutting 50 

The Driver 51 

Our Old Friend 52 

When Father Is It 53 

The Baby's Photograph 54 

A Narrow Escape 55 

The Five Pair of Twins 56 

Thanksgiving 58 

No, No, November 59 

A Country Girl's Gifts 60 

Our Valentines 61 

In Falling Snow 62 

Gracie's Valentine 63 

A Lovely Time . 65 



TREE-TOP MORNINGS 



TREE-TOP MORNINGS. 

How I like the tree-top mornings in the early 
early spring! 
There's a steady sound of roaring, 
Like a score of rivers pouring, 
Or a hundred giants snoring, 
Or a thousand birds up-soaring. 
There's a rattle as of battle and a sort of splen- 
did swing 
Of the branches and the curtains and almost of 

everything. 
Oh, I love the tree-top mornings in the early 
early spring! 

Oh, what fun on tree-top mornings in the early 
early spring, 
When the wind is loud as thunder, 
And it snaps the boughs asunder, 
And it lifts you up from under, 
Just to run zig-zag and wonder 
At the hurry and the scurry that such windy 

mornings bring, 
At the napping and the slapping of the clothes- 
line on the wing ! 
Oh, I love the tree-top mornings in the early, 
early spring! 



THE WISE FROGS. 

Early in the spring, with the wind on my cheek, 
I went to the pond an old friend to seek. 
"Old Friend Frog, what's the weather like? 

Speak!" 
Then a voice responded very low and weak : 
"Still rather bleak, still rather bleak; 
Bu-bu-bu-bl-eak, bu-bu-bu-bl-eak." 

Later in the spring, with only just a few 

Of my frog acquaintances, I said, "How do you 

do? 
Pleasant weather this, and a very pleasant view, 
And isn't that a lovely-looking sky?" "Quite 

true. 
Very pretty blue, very pretty blue ; 
Bu-bu-bu-bl-ue, bu-bu-bu-bl-ue." 

Warm grew the nights, and loud as a loom 
Floated all the water voices up to my room. 
"Tell me of the earth," I whispered through the 

gloom. 
"Is it full of flowers ?" They answered with a 

boom, 
"Full, full of bloom, full, full of bloom, 
Bu-bu-bu-bl-oom, bu-bu-bu-bl-oom." 



SOMEBODY'S BIRTHDAY. 

This is somebody's birthday, 

Just as sure as fate; 
Some little girl is five today, 

Some little boy is eight; 
Some little child is three today, 

Some older one thirteen ; 
Some little twins are precisely two — 

Two apiece I mean. 

Someone is eating birthday cake, 

And picking out the plums; 
Someone is counting her birthday dolls 

On all her fingers and thumbs ; 
Someone is bouncing his birthday ball, 

Or winding her birthday watch ; 
Someone is not too wise or tall 

For birthday butter scotch. 

Think of the scores of birthday gifts, 

Think of the birthday cheer, 
Think of the birthday happiness, 

Every day of the year; 
Every day of the year, my dear, 

Every day we're alive, 
Some happy child is one or two 

Or three or four or five. 



THE ORPHAN DRAKE. 

My orphan drake is two weeks old, 

And a terrible bother is he. 
Though cheerful and bright the truth must be 
told 

That he's too fond of me. 

When I go to the cellar he runs to the top 

Of the stairs and loudly peeps, 
When I go to the garret he'll never stop 

Till he follows by jumps and leaps. 

When I go for a walk he nearly kills 

Himself keeping up with me ; 
So I have to carry him over the hills, 

For he is so little, you see. 

He clings so close when I'm reading that 

I wish he would learn to swim ; 
And I fear some day the family cat 

Will put a finish to him. 

The moral is, "Never tag," for though 

It makes the young heart ache 
To suffer unwanted, 'Tis better so 

Than to be a goose of a drake. 



THE LAUGHING CROW. 

There was once a crow who seemed to know 
That precisely the very best time to go 
For corn was when it began to grow. 
And into this business he used to throw 
Great zeal and his laugh would overflow 

Into haw, haw, haw, and caw, caw, caw ! 

Which means ha, ha ! and ho, ho, ho ! 

Said the farmer, "No, my ancient foe, 
I can't kill you with an arrow and bow ; 
I'll trap you instead," which he did and so 
The bird was brought to the house to show 
To the boys and girls, who shouted "Oh," 

With a haw, haw, haw, and a caw, caw, caw ! 

And they chuckled, "Ha, ha! You are caught, 
ho, ho!" 

Now this mischievous crow is as tame as though 
He had never been wild six months ago. 
He romps with the children in falling snow, 
Or sits with them when the hearth is aglow. 
He plays some tricks, for he isn't slow, 
And they laugh together aloud or low, 

With a haw, haw, haw, and a caw, caw caw, 
caw! 

And a ha, ha, ha and a ho, ho, ho ! 



APPLE BLOSSOM TIME. 

Spring time, sing time, let us make a ring rhyme, 
Dancing down the orchard path in a bird-on- 

wing time. 
May dews are pearlier, May branches burlier, 
And the little school-bound feet early start and 

earlier, 
So as to have a long time, and a sunny song time 
Ere we reach the schoolhouse door, nine o'clock 

and gong time. 
Longer will the morns be and full of jubilation, 
When the harvest apples drop in the glad vaca- 
tion. 

May time, play time, don't we have a gay time 
Underneath the orchard boughs at the close of 

daytime ! 
Busy lips chattering, pink blooms scattering, 
On the lifted face and hands now we feel them 

spattering ; 
Then with hearts as feather-light, tripping off 

together, quite 
Like a pair of birds, so happy are we in this 

weather bright. 
Fairer will the days be and full of jubilation, 
When the peaches color up in the glad vacation. 



FOUR CLASSES OF CHILDREN. 

The children born in winter-time 
Are bright as the stars in a frosty clime. 
Bright as the ice on a moon-lit lea, 
Bright as the gleam of a Christmas tree. 
And what you will notice about them all, 

Wherever you have found them, 
Is that they're not only bright themselves — 

They brighten the lives around them. 

The children born in the time of spring 
Mirth and happiness with them bring. 
Cheery as crickets, blithe as a rill, 
Light as the breeze that is never still. 
Gay as the robin's earliest song, 

Though chilly winds may flout them. 
And then, they're not only glad themselves — 

They gladden the lives about them. 

The summer children are good and sweet, 
Sweet as berries and good as wheat, 
Sweet as the breath of a clover place, 
Sweet as a breeze to a sun-burned face. 
With voices sweet as the sound of streams, 

How pleasant it is to hear them ! 
And then they're not only sweet themselves — 

They sweeten the lives that are near them. 

The autumn children are clever indeed. 
They love to study, to think and read. 
They walk in the empty woodland vast, 
And think of the future and think of the past. 
I've noticed it over and over again, 

And mentioned it to their mothers, 
The autumn children are thinkers themselves 

And VERY thoughtful of others. 
7 



THE SKIPPING ROPE GIRL. 

There was once a child who used to skip 

Seventy times without a slip, 

Nip-etty trip at a regular clip, 

In her shiny shoes with a laugh on her lip ; 

Over her head and shoulder and hip 

Up went the rope and down it would dip, 

And people would say, "She's as smart as a whip, 

She'll be a good worker and that's a safe tip." 

BUT 
Ask her to weed the onion bed 
Or bring an armful of wood from the shed, 
Or set the table or cut the bread, 
Or amuse her baby brother Fred, 
Or do her work with a willing tread, 
Then, oh then she would hang her head 
And move as though she was nearly dead. 

Now if you were this child that I used to know, 

You, I am sure, would never act so, 

But would make the work like a skipping rope 

go, 
Never too fast and never too slow. 
Nip-etty clip with heel and toe, 
Hands that swift and skillful grow, 
Laughing lip and a cheek aglow, 
And work would vanish like April snow. 



REAL CHICKENHEARTEDNESS. 

A chicken aged less than a day 
And as large as a dandelion puff, 
Concluded that he had had enough 
Of unhatched eggs and a nest of hay, 
So scrambling out near a horse's heels, 
He began at once to scratch for his meals. 

The unhatched chicks neath their broken roofs, 
Called out, "Beware of those awful hoofs." 
But the elder brother replied, "My dears, 
'Tis only eggs that are troubled by fears. 
The chicken of genuine force and worth 
Is afraid of nothing: on the earth." 



UNDER THE APPLE TREE. 

A little, little girl and a big, big tree 
Can have a lot of fun in blossom weather. 

When the rosy branches bend, 

She readily can send 

For her very dearest friend, 

And the two of them may spend, 
With a numerous and interesting dolly family, 

A leafy, branchy, blossomy, 

Dilly dally, dolor free, 

Pleasant, pretty, perfumy, 

Pinky time together. 

A little, little boy and a big, big tree 

Can have some fun in harvest-apple-weather. 

When the fruit is ripe and sweet, 

He can go with Dick and Pete 

To a comfortable seat, 

Nicely shaded from the heat, 
With some minutes for refreshments and for 
mirth and jollity, 

And a hearty, happy, hammocky, 

Breezy, blithe and banquety, 

Joyous, juicy, junkety 
Time they'll have together. 

Some little, little folks and some big, big trees 
Can have a lot of fun in windy weather. 

When the leaves are on the ground, 

All the little children round 

Rake them up into a mound ; 

Then you hear a scratching sound, 
And puff! the leaves are crackling and roaring 
cheerily. 

And a noisy, boysy, rollicky, 

Girly, whirly, fancy-free, 

Flickering flaming, skylarky 

Time they have together ! 
10 



A MENTAL FAMILY TREE. 



We were talking in the schoolyard about our 
family trees, 

And Gertrude said hers could be traced to Sir 
Horatio Freeze; 

And Rufe said he'd descended from the gover- 
nor of a state; 

And Louie mentioned ancestors of hers about as 
great, 

While Reggie said his lineage embraced a lord, 
he knew ; 

And Nell from her great-great-grandsire ob- 
tained her blood so blue; 

But neither of the little Smiths could say a 
single word ; 

For them to boast their ancient name of course 
would be absurd. 



Then teacher, smiling slightly, said that she was 

much inclined 
To think that there was such a thing as blue blood 

of the mind ; 
That those who studied hard (and here she 

beamed on Tommy Smith) 
Had certainly descended from men of force and 

pith; 
And those who loved to tend the sick and serve 

the weak and frail 
Were morally related to Florence Nightingale. 
11 



(Here Jennie Smith blushed to the ears). And 
when she saw a youth 

(How bright she smiled at Johnny Smith!) who 
always told the truth 

At school, at home, or when he was at work or 
having fun 

She knew him for a relative of General Washing- 
ton. 



But Reggie doesn't like such talk; he says it 

seems to throw 
So much responsibilty upon yourself, you know. 



12 



GOING TO THE COUNTRY. 

We are going to the country, come along my 
happy child ; 

Through this breezy, easy summer you're to run 
a trifle wild. 

Bring your flaxen , waxen dollies and your dear- 
est, queerest one, 

And your little, brittle dishes, and your saucy 
squirrel Bun. 

Put your tiny, shiny slippers on your agile, fra- 
gile feet, 

Wash your rosy, posy fingers till they're very 
clean and neat. 

Stop to pop into the lightest and the brightest of 
your frocks, 

Tie your ramble-bramble hat upon your blowing 
flowing locks. 

Get the ticket at the wicket where the bags and 
trunks are piled, 

For we're going to the country, — Come along my 
happy child. 



13 



TASTES DIFFER. 

"If you would only be gentle and kind," 

Said our little kitty one day, 

"And always speak low, and move rather slow, 
How pleasantly then we should play ! 

For cat rhymes with mat, 

And with afternoon chat, 

And a little love-pat ; 

So don't forget that 
If you would only be gentle and kind, 

And smooth my fur just the right way, 
And call me some pet name, you'd certainly find 

How pleasantly then we should play." 

"If you were only a livelier child," 
Said our puppy, Ravels, — called Rav, — 

"And would hop, skip and jump 

Over bush, snag and stump, 
What a glorious time we should have! 

For dog rimes with log, 

And with loud-splashing frog, 

Or a twenty-mile jog 
Through a nice muddy bog ; 
So if you were only a livelier child, 

And would call out, Here, Ravels ; Come Rav ! 
And then dash off and prance through the wild- 
erness wild, 

What a glorious time we should have!" 



14 



THE WHITY PINKY PIG. 

Arthur was a doctor 

And travelled in a gig, 
Edgar was a learned judge 

And wore a gown and wig. 
Fred was a comedian 

And danced a funny jig, 
And Ernest was a farmer, 

With a whity pinky pig ; 
A whity pinky, sharp and slinky 

Little blinky pig. 

Edith was a mamma, 

With a waxen baby big, 
Lucy was a florist, 

Who planted out a twig, 
Nellie as a grocer sold 

An apple and a fig ; 
And all would have been happy 

Had it not been for the pig, 
That pinky whity, small and mighty, 

Queer and flighty pig. 

He gobbled up the groceries, 

He rooted up the twig, 
The doctor's pony Rover 

Ran at him and broke the gig ; 
He tangled up the learned judge 

Until he dropped his wig, 
And he stole the baby's cookies, 

Did that whity pinky pig ; 
That whity pinky, quick as winky, 

Swim-or-sinky pig. 



15 



A DEVOTED MOTHER. 

If I had a little sick dolly, 

I know what I should do ; 
I would tend it with care, and give it fresh air, 

And go to the doctor's too. 
And then if the doctor should hand me 

Some candy pills from the shelf, 
And dolly said, "Oh, I can't take them — no !" 

I'd swallow them all myself. 
For you know, of course, I could never use force, 

So I'd swallow them all myself. 

Yes, I am a careful young mother, 

When dollies are sick and weak, 
I forbid them to walk, I don't let them talk, 

Nor even permit them to speak. 
In winter I give them a straw ride, 

Well wrapped up is each little elf, 
And smiling to see with what vigor and glee 

I am skipping and singing myself. 
The unselfish and good and wise mother should 

Do the skipping and singing herself. 



16 



THE NAUGHTY PARROT. 

Once there was a little girl who spent the sum- 
mer days 

With sheep and cows and pigeons and horses out 
to graze, 

And other gentle comrades. They all had pleas- 
ant ways, 

Except a horrid parrot with a green and yellow 
head, 

Who never made polite remarks, but always 
moaned instead, 

"Oh, ah wah, ah, hoop bah, I don't want to go 
to bed!" 

Now all these other animals were very very good. 
They neighed or they brayed or they crowed or 

purred or mooed, 
They barked or they bleated or they quacked or 

clucked or cooed. 
But still that hateful parrot, he drooped his 

gaudy head, 
And with a twinkle in his eye, he dolorously said, 
"Oh, ah, wah, ah, hoop bah, I don't want to go 

to bed!" 



17 



THE RAIN-PIPE AND THE ROOF. 

Pitter, patter, says the roof; pitter, patter pat! 

The water through the rainpipe is slinking like a 
cat. 

Hurry, scurry! calls the roof; the drops are com- 
ing thick ; 

And then we hear the pipe go, trick-a-lick-a-lick ! 

Rattle-battle! cries the roof, rattle-battle-rush! 

Slusha-gusha ! goes the pipe, slusha-flusha-gush ! 

Roaring, pouring! shouts the roof, and harder 
comes the roar; 

Close up all the windows, and fasten tight the 
door. 

Springing from the eave trough with a splash- 
ing sound, 

See the merry water jumping to the ground ! 

Slower, lower, chimes the roof, rinka, tanka, 
tink! 

Urgle, gurgle, says the pipe ; tinka, linka, link ! 

Pitter, patter ! says the roof ; pitter, patter pat. 

Tinka-link, the rain pipe, ticka, licka — spat! 



18 



ALL OUTDOORS. 

When I went to the sea shore 

I thought I'd better take 
My picture blocks and painting box, 

My wooden duck and drake, 
My cardboard bird that whistles, 

My train of cars, my Ted, 
My Mother Goose, my china Moose, 

My tin horn painted red. 
But when I got to Grandpa's 

He said, " These sandy shores 
Won't let you play with anything 

But All Outdoors." 

My Teddy bear is in the trunk 

My Indian hatchet quaint, 
My Noah's Ark, the picture park 

I just began to paint, 
My ball and top, my marbles, 

My rocking-horse and whip, 
My auto-car that winds up 

And goes biz-zook, gaz-zip, 
Are still unpacked, for since I came 

I find a hundred stores 
Can't hold so many playthings 

As All Outdoors. 



19 



BY SEA AND LAKE. 

Twenty thousand horses 

Galloping abreast, 
Hard hoofs hammering, 

Foam on the crest ; * 
Thunderous, clamorous, 

Eager for the fray — 
That is how the waves seemed 

By the sea today. 

Twenty little babies 

Learning how to creep, 
Soft voices whispering 

Nearly half asleep; 
Murmuringly, lullingly, 

Lapped in slumber light — 
That is how the waves sound 

By the lake tonight. 



20 



THE WARNING. 

Once our little Benny went to steal a robin's nest, 
It was a hot and darksome day with black clouds 

in the west. 
And just as he had climbed the tree and had the 

nest down bent, 
There came a sudden thunder storm, and here's 

the way it went : 
B-r-roar, gr-r-roar, bad lad, bang! 
Cr-rack, is it back ? Flash, whack, bang ! 
Grumble-rumble-bumble-dumble, put it back 

before you tumble, 
Cr-rack, put it back, 
Flash, crash, bang! 

Oh, my, how shaky felt his legs and oh how 

queer his head, 
He put the nest back in its place and off for 

home he sped. 
A rushing wind pursued him, the rain upon him 

poured, 
And in his startled ears the thunder ripped and 

tore and roared : 
Br-r-owl, g-r-rowl, bad lad, bang ! 
Cr-rack, is it back ? Flash, whack bang ! 
Yes, you've had the best of luck, sir, 
Or you surely had been struck, sir, 
Hear me, Ben, 
Never again ! 
Crash, flash, bang! 



21 



WHEN DIMPLEFEET WAS CUPID. 

When Dimplefeet was Cupid 

His markmanship was fine; 
His bow was made of willow branch, 

His arrows all of pine. 
And first he sent an arrow straight 

At mamma's dress of blue. 
"That means you're sweet," said Dimplefeet, 

"And somebody loves you." 

And then he aimed at Grandma's shoes. 

Oh, mercy, how she jumped! 
Her cheek it turned from pale to red, 

Her heart it thumped and thumped. 
She caught the boy and kissed him well, 

Then as away he flew, 
"That means you're sweet," said Dimplefeet, 

"And somebody loves you." 

And then when Katie went to hang — 

Her towels on the hedge, 
He crept up close and took good aim 

And hit her apron's edge. 
"That means you're sweet," cried Dimplefeet, 

"If all the signs are true!" 
"'Tis you that's swate," said Irish Kate, 

"And everyone loves you." 



22 



IN THE WATER. 



Come ahead Jim, I'll show you how to swim, 
Dive into a deep place and hold your head up so ; 
Push your arms out this way and kick back with 

a vim, 
Keep your nose above the wave and then away 

you go, 
While we all shout aloud, Oh, we're a jolly 

crowd, 
As we're splashing, dashing, slashing in the 

water. 



Don't be afraid, Bess will lend her aid, 

I will hold your chest up and Marjorie your chin, 

Walt and Ben will follow close as further out we 

wade, 
And all of us will rush to you if you should 

tumble in ; 
You'd hear my orders then, To the rescue quick, 

my men, 
And we'd bear you choking, soaking from the 

water. 



Tom, Jack and May, I'll tell you what to play; 
Play that you are porpoises and I will be a whale ; 
I'll move in stately splendor while you sport 

about my way, 
And then I'll dash against you like a ship against 

a gale, 
While you all raise a shout and spatter foam 

about, 
As we're rushing, crushing, slushing in the water. 
23 



That's splendid, Jim, You'll soon learn to swim, 
Isn't this by far the greatest fun you ever had? 
Those fellows on the shore are coming with a 

roar 
And kicking up the cold waves and spluttering 

like mad. 
Hey, boys, hullo ! We're singing as we go, 
And laughing, chaffing, quaffing, in the water. 



24 



HELPING A LITTLE. 

When the days are hot and growing hotter, 
And earth is dry as a wornout blotter, 
When the grass is crisp and the sky is copper, 
And more than a burden is each grasshopper, 
When the shrill cicada's red-hot voice is 
A note at which no heart rejoices, 
When at every crack the dust is sifting, 
And gasping hens their wings are lifting, 
I like to think of the deep snow drifting, 
Of frost-bound pond and icicles brittle: 
It helps a little. 

When out on the path the step is ringing, 
And keen as a whip the sleet is stinging, 
When buffalo robes are heaped to the shoulder, 
And the cold moon makes the night seem colder, 
When a few thin leaves on the beeches shiver, 
And dead and buried and gone is the river, 
And out of the north the flakes are flying, 
I like to think of the new hay lying, 
Of summer airs in the branches sighing, 
Of the hammock at noon where I lounge or 
whittle : 

It helps a little. 



25 



SONG OF A SPOON. 

There was once a bright little spoon 

On a breakfast table in June, 

Who sang this sad little tune : 

"I've been thrown down with a dash and a 

frown 
When I tried to get up to Redlip town, 
And the words outflung by Mr. Tongue 
Were the fretful kind that can't be sung." 

And the thing that I tried to say 

Was oh, what a dreadful way 

That was to begin the day. 

But the very next morn in June 
I heard the bright little spoon 
Sing this very different tune : 

"From a silver cup, with a bite and a sup 

To Redlip town I went gayly up ; 

And just at the chin I met a grin, 

One came out as the other went in." 
And the thing that I tried to say, 
Was oh, what a splendid way 
That was to begin the day. 



26 



THE CHEERFUL DUCKS 

Down to the pond when the weather was warm 
Hurried two ducks at signs of a storm. 
Quack, quack, quack! Splash, splash, splash! 
Fast come the big drops, faster the flash. 
Down, down we dive at a big thunder clap. 
Up, up we jump with a flap, flap, flap ! 
Waves on the breast and rain on the back, 
Water, water, everywhere, quack, quack, quack! 

Down to the pond when the weather was cold, 
The same two ducks one afternoon strolled. 
Quack, quack, quack! Why, isn't this nice? 
A few drops of water at the edge of the ice. 
Paddle, paddle feet, bubble, bubble bill, 
Spatter, spatter, cheerily, flap with a will. 
There goes a drop and a half on my back, 
Isn't it glorious ? Quack, quack, quack ! 



27 



WHEN TEDDY WENT TO THE WOODS. 

He nearly caught a chipmunk, 

He nearly stunned an owl, 
He nearly saw a polar bear, 

He nearly heard it growl. 
He nearly killed a rattlesnake, 

He nearly felt it squirm, 
He nearly hooked the biggest fish 

With nearly half a worm. 
He nearly walked a dozen miles, 

He very nearly hit 
An eagle sitting in its nest, 

He nearly climbed to it. 
Now if he nearly did so much 

When young, it seems to me, 
What a wonderfully clever man 

He'll nearly grow to be. 



28 



PUSSY'S LESSON. 

Kitty, kitty, kitty, 
There's a squirrel on a limb ; 
If you know where 
Don't you go there, 
Don't you even glance at him. 
Quick he leaps from pine to balsam and along 

the bridge so gay ; 
Now you should look quite indifferent, or glance 
off the other way. 

Kitty, kitty, kitty, 
There's a robin near the eaves, 
If you know it, 
Don't you show it, 
Don't you touch the ivy leaves. 
Loud he sings as though there weren't a cat in 

this harmonious world, 
While you lap your cream or slumber in the 
pleasant sunshine curled. 

Kitty, kitty, kitty, 
Don't you know my duty stern 
Is to train you 
And restrain you, 
So I hope you'll quickly learn 
For a well-fed puss like you to murder things is 

wrong, and that 
If you follow my instructions, I'll be proud of 
you, my cat. 



29 



A LITTLE CITY CHILD. 

He brought a flower from the field — 

That little city child— 
And when they asked him what it was, 

He said that it was wild. 

And when they asked him of the bird 
That sang so sweet and low, 

He said it was a robin, 
Or perhaps it was a crow. 

And when the names of trees he met 
They begged of him to tell 'em, 

He seemed to think that every tree 
Was simply called an "ellum." 

The insects of the earth or air 

Which every day he sees, 
He calls when wingless, "funny bugs," 

The winged ones are "bees." 

And if a garter snake should glide 

From out a bush or brake, 
'Twould hear him shouting far and wide, 

"I've found a rattlsnake !" 



30 



DOLLS' SLUMBER SONG. 

Hushaby, my babies, now the day is closing, 
All the tired little birds are drowsing in the nest ; 
Out upon the lake the lilies are reposing, 
And so must you, my little ones, upon your mam- 
ma's breast. 
S-1-e-e-p, sleep, sink, sink to sleep — 
Claribel and Muriel, Polly and Bo-peep. 

Hushaby, my dearies, now the dew is falling, 

Over on the meadow evening shadows creep. 

On the edge of Slumberland hear your mamma 
calling, 

"Come my little family, it's time to go to sleep." 
S-1-e-e-p, sleep, sink, sink to sleep — 
Claribel and Muriel, Polly and Bo-peep." 



31 



THE CICADA. 

When the sun is hot and growing hotter, 
And the pond is dry as the ink on a blotter, 
When dust on the lilac leaves is showing, 
And the grass is hay before the mowing, 
Then up where the orchard leaves are brittle, 
Comes the scrape of a violin sharp and little, 

Zeek, Zeek, 

Creak, creak, 
Sweet is the heat of the midsummer's cheek. 

When everything glares excepting the pine-trees, 
And mercury stands tip-toe in the nineties, 
When even the grasshoppers, tree-toads and 

crickets 
Are gasping for breath in the meadows and 

thickets, 
Then he tucks his fiddle beneath his green chin, 
And screek, screek, goes the shrill violin. 

Zeek, zeek, 

Creak, creak, 
Sweet is the heat of the weather I seek, 

Dear little fiddler, oh, how I wonder 
What you creep into or what you crawl under 
When the cold rain comes. Small summer-lover, 
Where is your refuge and what is your cover? 
Play once again now the chill days begin, 
Weak, weak, goes the shrill violin, 

Weak, weak, 

Meek, meek, 
Music is weak as the days grow bleak. 



32 



LITTLE MILLIONAIRES. 

Twenty little millionaires 

Playing in the sun : 
Millionaires in mother-love, 

Millionaires in fun, 
Millionaires in leisure hours, 

Millionaires in joys, 
Millionaires in hopes and plans, 

Are these girls and boys. 

Millionaires in health are they, 

And in dancing blood, 
Millionaires in shells and stones, 

Sticks and moss and mud; 
Millionaires in castles 

In the air, and worth 
Quite a million times as much 

As castles on the earth. 

Twenty little millionaires, 

Playing in the sun; 
Oh, how happy they must be, 

Every single one ! 
Hardly any years have they, 

Hardly any cares ; 
But in every lovely thing 

Multimillionaires. 



33 



THE SNAPPING TURTLE. 

A big snapping turtle came into our swale, 
Like a dinner plate upside down, 
With his four little feet and a cute head and tail 
And a breast bone polished brown. 

He snapped on the end of a stick I had 
And you should have seen us go ! 
A turtle's a mighty lively lad, 
Though some folks think he's slow. 

He drew his four little feet inside, 
And then was ready for the stunt ; 
Away on his big breast bone he'd slide 
While I tugged along at the front. 

I tied some sleigh bells to the stick 
And merrily they did sound, 
Jing-a-ling-ting as we went quick 
Over the stubbly ground. 

He couldn't tell me if he was hurt 
As he'd have to let go to yell, 
But I sometimes think the poor old turt 
Didn't like it so awfully well. 



34 



A FUNNY CHILD. 

There is a girl in our town and she is full of fun, 
She prances and she dances with a laugh for 

everyone ; 
Her eyes are full of merriment, her voice is full 

of glee, 
And oh, how happy, happy, you would think that 

child must be. 

And so she is when things go right, but oh, when 

they go wrong, 
You never get a smile from her, you never hear 

a song ; 
But how I wish when things are queer she'd 

bring us mirth and glee, 
For oh, how happy, happy, then each one of us 

would be. 



35 



A RHYMING MOTHER. 

One little sister and one little brother, 
Happy all day and helping each other, 
And oh, such a comfort they were to their 
mother. 

And what do you think that nice mother said, 
When she lighted the candle and took them to 

bed 
And tenderly smoothed each fair little head? 

She said with a smile that was well worth while, 
I know now why pearl is a good rhyme for 

girl 
And I know now why joy is a good rhyme for 
boy." 



36 



PLAIN JANE. 

When I first awaken, my mother calls me Bub- 
bins, 

When I try to dress myself she calls me Mother 
Bunch, 

When I rock my dolly she whispers, "Little 
Woman !" 

And I'm always Missy Messy when I spill milk 
at lunch. 

When I shout and scamper she calls me "Happy 
Baby," 

When I get the ear ache or any other pain 

Warm in my crib she tucks me and pets her 
precious ducksy, 

But when I'm very naughty I am just plain Jane. 

When I go to parties she calls me Popsy Pigeon, 
When I start to Sunday School I am her little 

lamb. 
But oh, I can't remember all the funny names 

she gives me, 
I often sit and wonder what I really truly am. 
Only just this morning I did what was forbidden, 
I played out in the puddles and fell down in the 

rain, 
And instead of saying Lovey or even little 

Dovey, 
A voice called from the doorway, 
"Come here this moment, Jane." 



37 



PLAYING TAME BEAR. 

I like to play with Mamma best of anything I do, 
She always laughs so easy and gets me laughing 

too. 
Outside our games are Hide and Seek, I Spy, or 

Hound and Hare, 
But when it's raining hard we play I'm her tame 

bear. 
She ties a rope around me, I start to jump and 

prance, 
She pulls me to the door step and says, "Dance, 

Bear, dance!" 
And makes me walk on all fours or clamber on 

a chair, 
And says, " Good fellow! whoa! come here, my 

nice tame bear !" 

Then suddenly I tug my rope and act no longer 

mild, 
And mamma says, "I greatly fear my tame bear's 

getting wild." 
I pull her out into the hall and even up the stair, 
She says, "What shall I do with him, my rough 

tame bear ! 
I hope he doesn't hug me, I hope he doesn't bite, 
Just hear him growl and mutter, just watch him 

snarl and fight !" 
And then all of a sudden she's in her rocking 

chair, 
And gets a lot of squeezing from her wild tame 

bear. 



38 



LITTLE JOE AND THE ENGLISH 
LANGUAGE. 

When a blue jay wants to talk 
All it says is "squawk, squawk;" 
When a cricket tries to speak 
All it says is "screak, screak ;" 
When a crow lays down the law 
All its says is "Caw, caw." 

And when you ask our Joey 

If this or that is so, 

He's almost sure to answer 

*Ho-I-oh-wo. 
Bluejays, crickets, crows and boys 
Which makes the funniest noise? 
Squawk, screak, caw, ho? 

Ho-I-oh-wo. 

Dogs bow-wow, or else berp werp, 
Hens cluck and sparrows chirp, 
Horses neigh, cows moo, 
Owls go to whit, to whoo. 

But if examination's hard 

At school, I wonder why 

Joe says, when asked how he got on, 

fHo-aw-wi ! 
Horses, cows, dogs and birds 
All avoid the use of words. 
Joe can too and not half try, 

Ho-aw-wi ! 



*Usually pronounced Oh, I don't know. 
fPreferably pronounced Oh, all right. 



39 



THE BABY WHO WAS THREE-FOURTHS 
GOOD. 

"Now will you be good?" said little Bob Wood, 
To his baby sister Sue, 

As he lifted his hand with a look of command, 
And the baby answered "Goo." 

"You've sucked Noah's paint till he looks quite 

faint, 
And wrecked nearly all his crew. 
Is that being good?" asked stern Bobby Wood 
And the baby gurgled out "Goo !" 

"You mean pretty well, so seldom you yell, 
And you never were known to look blue; 
But you're not always good — that's quite under- 
stood—" 
And the little one laughed and said "Goo !" 

Goo is three-fourths of good," said wise Bobby 

Wood, 
I suppose that's the best you can do ; 
But when you're as big as I am, you sprig, 
You'll have to be good clear through. 



40 



THE LEAVES. 

A great big house with such a lot of children, 

Happy little children, swinging all the day, 
Swinging and singing, and whispering together, 

Dancing to the tune that the merry winds play ; 
Hiding the bird's nest, sheltering the squirrel, 

Drooping o'er the dormouse, shadowing the 
mink, 
Playing with the raindrops, sifting the sunbeams, 

What a very busy time they're having, don't 
you think? 

Said the great tree-mothers, "If you will be very, 

Very very good the whole summer through, 
All of you shall go to a big dance in autumn, 

Dressed in the prettiest style you ever knew. 
And after it is over and you begin to shiver, 

And down, down-drooping is each sleepy head, 
Won't it be funny to see you all go skipping 

And hopping and flying and jumping into 
bed?" 



41 



THE LOST MAPLE. 

On the border of the wood it beckoned where he 

stood — 
That very young and tiny maple tree. 
It was scarcely one year old and its leaves were 

red and gold, 
And he said, "I think I'll take it home with me." 
But while he went to play they softly blew 

away — 
Those little red and yellow leaves — and then, 
As it wasn't very big it looked just like a twig, 
So he never found his maple tree again. 



42 



PROFESSOR GOODFELLOW. 

Among the teachers in our land and those from 

foreign shores, 
Stands forth Professor Goodfellow, who teaches 

out-of-doors. 
His pupils roam the woods and fields and ramble 

down the lanes, 
And never go inside at all excepting when it 

rains. 
Now when Professor Goodfellow says, "John 

had twenty-three 
Delicious peaches and ate five, how many then 

had he?" 
The pupils are provided with peaches by the 

crate. 
And readily subtract from those they had the 

ones they ate. 
Or when lie says, "Bound Texas," rhey board 

the Dixie train 
And study their geography with all their might 

and n-ain. 
And when he says, "What is a noun?" Why, 

anything in sight 
A boy or girl might single out would certainly 

be right. 
The reading classes read all day the book of Na- 
ture fair, 
The spelling classes find a spell in earth and sky 

and air. 
But when Professor Goodfellow finds some for- 
lorn abode, 
An old deserted schoolhouse beside a lonely road, 
And it should be a wet or cold or very stormy 

day, 
He says, "Now children, school's dismissed, all 

run inside and play !" 

43 



TOMMY'S PREDICAMENT. 

When Tommy learned the alphabet it took 

months more or less 
To teach him straight I, pointed A, round O and 

crooked S. 
We told him that the broken O was called the let- 
ter C, 
And that a table just in front turned it into a G, 
That F had roof and door knob and E roof, knob 

and floor, 
H was a bench between two posts, Q had a path 

before ; 
P had a bundle on his back, B had two bundles, 

and 
T was a gimlet, Y a tree, a branch on either 

hand; 
M was fat N and W was simply double V, 
And anyone would know cross X, deep U and 

zigzag Z ; 
R was K with a cover on , J was a 6 turned 

round, 
L had three corners, D with one straight line, 

one curved was found. 
But when poor Tommy with his hard won know- 
ledge in his head 
Went off to school he nearly swooned because 

the teacher said, 
"It cannot be your parents let you learn such 

ancient lore, 
We don't teach little children their letters any 

more." 



44 



WHEN OUR CHEESE IS DONE. 

I like a dinner pail that has some sort of a sur- 
prise, 
A hunk of spicy fruit cake or two kinds of 

saucer pies ; 
Some candy or bananas, a pickled egg or two, 
Or cookies pink with icing and thick with raisins 

too. 
But oh, this everlasting bread and jam or bread 

and meat, 
It makes me tired all over from my freckles to 

my feet. 
So then I stop at Uncle's and lean on the gate 

real hard, 
And wait and wait and wait and wait till he 

comes in the yard. 
"Our cheese is done," 
I say to Uncle Ben, 
"Ours is just begun," 

He says to me, and then 
He cuts me off a big delicious chunk and off I 

run. 

My uncle is a widower and buys the stuff he eats, 

And my, he has a lot of dandy unexpected treats ; 

One time he called me in and gave me fish he'd 
learned to fry, 

With mashed potatoes, cake chock full of nuts 
and lemon pie, 

With oranges and lemonade and honey dripping 
sweet, 

I tell you I felt splendid from my freckles to my 
feet; 

But just one thing was missing and I wasn't 
quite at ease 

Till Uncle said, "My goodness ! Why I clean for- 
got the cheese." 

45 



"Our cheese is done," 

I say to Uncle Ben, 
"Ours is just begun," 

He says to me and then 
He cuts me off a yellow tender chunk and off I 
run. 



46 



WELCOME HOME. 

When you hear, loud and clear, on a sleepy 

afternoon, 
Such a noise as some boys very numerous might 

make, 
Whoops and cries, large in size, and a lively 

whistled tune, 
Scampering sounds, leaps and bounds, talk of 

pie and johnny cake; 
Then the fleet dancing beat of a half a dozen 

feet, 
Mixed with bumps, laughs and thumps, joyous 

shrieks and yelps, it's plain 
You will say, sure as day, that the dog has gone 

to greet 
In the hall just a small lively boy from school 

again. 



47 



THE FOLLOWERS. 

Who'er has watched a plowman turning over 
The grassy sod, must have been moved to 

laughter 
To see from fences, poultry yard and clover, 
Crows, cowbirds, chickens, running fluttering 

after. 
Each diligently searches in the furrow, 
The robins near the plow, wrens at a distance ; 
A chicken takes a beetle from a sparrow, 
But not without its mother's kind assistance. 

Serene the plowman treads, and all unknowing, 
His only care — to judge him by his actions — 
Is to make straight the way the plow is going: 
He moves unconscious of his benefactions. 
I think, were I a man, I would not yearn to 
Adorn the platform, parlor, or piano ; 
For though applause is sweet, who would not 

turn to 
The living earth that most becomes a man ? Oh, 
How good to plow the morning soil with Dob- 
bin's 
Ungrudging aid, and hear the children's laughter 
As wrens and bluebirds, song sparrows and rob- 
ins, 
Crows, hens, and cowbirds, fluttered gayly after. 



48 



A BIG BEDTIME. 

Once there was a mother with a hundred million 
children, 

And when she said, "It's time for bed, my dears," 

They all of them would sigh and answer "By 
and by," 

And drive their parent to the verge of tears. 

So then she told her troubles to a neighbor. 

"O Mr. Wind, lend me your rod," she said ; 

"I really hate to whip," she owned with tremb- 
ling lip, 

"But otherwise they'd never go to bed." 

"Dear Madam Nature, let me do the whipping," 
Said Mr. Wind, "it's fun; do let me, please." 
When this the children heard, without a single 

word, 
They scurried off to bed as thick as bees. 
The willing ones went off with just a love-pat, 
The stubborn fellows fought and came to grief. 
Then down came the sleet and a splendid snowy 

sheet, 
And covered up each little naughty leaf. 



49 



GOING A-NUTTING. 

All on a windy morning what fun to go a-nut- 

ting, 
To get the poles and beat the boughs until, 

like popping corn, 
The nuts come dancing downward, the chestnut 

prickles shutting 
Their hearts in velvet linings that must be 

bruised or torn ; 
And while the burrs are scattering, 
To hear the squirrels chattering, 
And beechnuts pittering, pattering, 
All on a windy morn. 

All on a windy morning to pick the odorous wal- 
nuts, 

And beat the blackening butternuts on highest 
branches borne, 

While both the babies fill their fists with acorns, 
which they call nuts, 

Until there comes that startling, pleasing sound, 
the dinner horn. 

And then they throw them scattering, 

Like beechnuts pittering, pattering, 

And homeward we go chattering, 

All on a windy morn. 



50 



THE DRIVER. 

The driver whistled as he awoke, 
And he drove the dust like a cloud of smoke ; 
He drove the clouds like a flock of sheep, 
He drove the leaves in a hurrying heap. 
He whipped the hats from the passers-by, 
And tossed them up till they seemed to fly. 
He drove the rain into level lines, 
And roared in the tops of the tallest pines. 
He never paused in his greeting rough, 
For it seemed he could not go fast enough. 
But where he was going none could say, 
And all you would hear if you went that way, 
Was, "Oh, what a dreadfully windy day !" 



51 



OUR OLD FRIEND. 

There's a pleasant looking fellow living miles and 
miles away, 

Yet he manages to come and see us nearly every 
day. 

He'll peep in at the keyhole or through the small- 
est crack, 

And say, "Good morning, children! Aren't you 
glad to see me back ?" 

Then he glances through the door, and he laughs 
along the floor 

And chases to the cellar all the shadows big and 
black. 

No matter where he shows his face he is a wel- 
come guest, 

He always wears a golden coat and lovely yellow 
vest. 

His smile is broad and generous — bright as a 
field of corn, 

And he makes you feel so frolicsome and glad 
that you were born. 

Now when you have guessed his name, you will 
praise him just the same, 

And will give him smile for smile when he ap- 
pears tomorrow morn. 



52 



WHEN FATHER IS IT. 

When it rains all day or the weather is rough, 

And dull in the house we sit, 
There is fun to be had playing blind man's buff 

When father is "It." 
We tie a big handkerchief over his eyes. 

He moves very quick for a man of his size, 
And knows where we are by our laughter and 
cries 

When father is "It." 

The little girls creep up and tickle his ear, 

When father is "It." 
He doesn't quite catch them, but comes pretty 
near, 

When father is "It." 
They pull at his coat tails, he gives a great start, 

Then spins around twice and is off like a dart. 
We dive 'neath his fingers with loud-beating 
heart, 

When father is"It." 

He whoops and he prances, he capers and 

bounds, 
When father is "It." 
We're a set of wild heathen, to judge by the 
sounds, 
When father is "It." 
Tom laughs till he has to lie down on the floor, 
And Archie and Joe — you should just hear 
them roar, 
For we feel that we simply can't stand any more 
When father is "It." 



53 



THE BABY'S PHOTOGRAPH. 

That's the baby's photograph, 
Most as big as Grace herself. 
See it up there on the shelf ? 
Dimpled face all one broad laugh. 
Not a sniggle, nor a giggle, 
Nor the least self-conscious wriggle, 
But as if a laugh should start 
From the center of the heart. 
Ah, ha, ha! and Oh, ho, ho! 
Shaking her from top to toe. 
Well, when I feel mean as sin 
I look up and catch that grin, 
And of course I'm smiling too ; 
Can't look at it and feel blue. 
Neither can her ma look sad, 
When that little face, as glad 
As the sunshine, cheers the room, 
Driving off the air of gloom. 
Even little Grace herself 
Points up to the chimney shelf 
When she cries, and wipes her eyes, 
Says, "Dat's me," in some surprise. 
Then with a reflected laugh 
Greets her merry photograph. 
'Twasn't much to get her taken, 
But — well, I should feel forsaken 
If we missed that bubbling laugh 
On our baby's photograph. 



54 



A NARROW ESCAPE 

A dear little bird flew in the woodshed, 
Chilly and hungry and looking for bread. 
And one moment later the door opened wide, 
And I sauntered in with the cat at my side. 
In a frenzy of fright the little thing flew, 
When what did that terrible kitty cat do 
But pounce on the bird. I pounced on the cat, 
And then just as quickly as you could say scat, 
Took the bird from the cat's mouth and let it go 

free; 
It lit on a fence and remarked, "Twee-dee." 

My little Twee-dee, you will have to look out. 

You can't expect Me to be always about 

When cats are around. Yes, I'll get you some 

bread, 
But remember in future keep out of the shed. 



55 



THE FIVE PAIR OF TWINS. 



Polly, Polly, Polly, tell the five pair of twins, — 

The tiny scraps of small ones, 

The thin and toppling tall ones, 

The cunningly-devised ones, 

The four just middling-sized ones, — 

We're going to have a candy pull — 

Tonight the fun begins — 
So Polly, Polly, Polly tell the five pair of twins 



Polly, Polly, Polly, tell the five pair of twins 

They may make some candy dollies, 

Like the china one of Mollie's, 

And some yellow candy kittens, 

And a pair of candy mittens, 

And a lot of candy fishes 

With the sweetest set of fins, 
So Polly, Polly, Polly, tell the five pair of twins. 



But Polly, Polly, Polly, if the five pair of twins 

Go swimming in molasses, 

Or to smearing Grandma's glasses, 

Or to setting fire to paper, 

Or — well any other caper, 

They'll all be tied together 

Till they're sorry for their sins. 
So Polly, Polly, Polly, warn the five pair of 
twins. 



And Polly, Polly, Polly, when the five pair of 

twins 
And the children of our neighbors 
Have finished with their labors, 
56 



While without the sleet is pelting, 
And within the candy's melting, 
You must scrub those sticky infants 
Till they're neat as jeweled pins. 
Did you know your thumbs and fingers were the 
five pair of twins ? 



57 



THANKSGIVING. 

There is something in thanksgiving 

That is better than the best 
Of the things upon the table or the 

Most successful jest, 
Or the smell of lemon, nutmeg, 

Summer savory and cloves, 
Or the sound of fires a-crackling 

In the newly lighted stoves. 
'Tis the soul of good companionship and hospi- 
tality 
When Grandpa leads the people out and says so 
beamingly, 

"All of you take cheers 

Jest anywheers, 

Set by and lay to !" 

It isn't perfect grammar or cultivated charm 

That puts that look in Grandma's eyes when she 
accepts his arm. 

There's something sad and long-ago-ish, yet so 
sweet, so sweet! 

The children and grand-children follow them 
with happy feet. 

Then all of us are standing while Grandpa's say- 
ing grace, 

And then he calls, "Come Polly, Bessie, Dick, up 
here's a place. 
All of you take cheers jest anywheers, 
Set by and lay to !" 



58 



NO, NO, NOVEMBER. 

What ho, November ! 
Autumn crowns the glowing sphere, 
Winter's grasp is full of cheer, 
You between them sad and drear 
Bind your brows with leafage sere, 

Saying, "I remember 
When the year was not a bier ;" 

Ah, woe, November! 

If so. November, 
Months like varying moods are sent ; 
May is rapture, June content, 
Strength is with October blent, 
But when pale Discouragement 

Tends a dying ember, 
Weakly bent and sorely spent, 

Then lo, November! 

Yet, O November ! 
Red and gold before you glow, 
Dazzling near you shines the snow ; 
Grief like yours is brief, and so 
Think not that with you I'll go 

Sighing, "I remember!" 
Weeping low and wailing ; no, 

No, no, November! 



59 



A COUNTRY GIRL'S GIFTS. 

Among the country fields she strives, 

Apart from lavish living; 
And yet with tireless skill contrives 

To know the bliss of giving. 
The home-made gifts that from her hand 

Into a lengthening list pass, 
Would make the dullest understand 

The joy she feels at Christmas. 
A clover pillow and a fan 

Of peacock feathers tinted; 
A woodland cane — a lame old man 

Of it somehow had hinted; 
Some candy breathing sassafras, 

Or elderberry, maybe, 
In bag of bark sewed up with grass, 

To cheer the neighbor's baby. 
A poppy-box with crimson leaves 

Between its two glass covers ; 
A rosejar where dead summer weaves 

A spell to thrall her lovers ; 
A birchen book of ample size 

For valued thought or sonnet ; 
Along its margins butterflies 

And moths are pasted on it ; 
Ferns fastened singly and with care, 

A pictured face completing ; 
A maiden framed in maidenhair — 

Their delicacies meeting; 
A paper cutter off the tree 

Wind- felled in January 
But why go on ? So easily 

Love makes her gifts to vary. 
To give from out our wealth — or waste — 

Imparts some joy to living; , 
But only loving hearts can taste 

The luxury of giving. 
60 



OUR VALENTINES. 

We sent a valentine one day 
To our dear father far away. 
It was a splendid big affair, 
Of loves and doves and flowers fair, 
Of cupids, roses, hearts and lace, 
And on each rose you saw a f ace — 
A photograph so cute and wee 
Of Rob and Lou and Babe and me. 
A big rose made the thing complete 
With mother's picture smiling sweet, 
And verses ; "Dear, for thee we pine ; 
Say, wilt thou be our valentine?" 
Soon came the answer, thick and wide, 
And thrillingly we looked inside. 
'Twas just a beauty, strewn with lots 
And piles of blue for-get-me-nots. 
And verses too : "Dear loves of mine, 
I sure will be your valentine, 
Your love is sweeter than the flowers 
That perfume all the summer hours. 
Each night before my eyelids close 
I kiss with ardor every rose. 
Goodbye ! As long as sunbeams shine 
I'll be your loving valentine." 



61 



IN FALLING SNOW. 

The snowy flakes are falling 

On roof and water spout, 
I hear the children calling, 

"O Ernest, Ed, come out!" 
And then they go snow-balling 

With merry laugh and shout, 
While Teddy tumbles sprawling, 

The funny little trout! 
Now here is Richie hauling 

His brother young and stout, 
While all the rest are mauling 

And pulling him about. 
Oh, dear, what joyous squalling, 

What happy-hearted bawling, 
It really sounds appalling, 

And yet I have no doubt 
It's better far than crawling 

Around the fire with gout ! 



62 



GRACIE'S VALENTINE. 

Little Gracie wrote a letter, it was only just a 

line 
And 'twas printed very neatly : "Won't you be 

my valentine?" 
With a heart 
And a dart 
And a Cupid pink and smart, 
And a shower of doves and roses, some together, 

some apart. 
These were only colored pictures, cut from 

plates, you understand, 
Smeared with mucilage and pounded with a 

moist and chubby hand. 

Little Gracie in her letter printed neatly as be- 
fore, 

"To the very sweetest dolly in my Uncle Joseph's 
store :" 
With an 'Oh!" 
Uncle Joe, 

Laughing loud and smiling low, 

Pinned the note upon the sweetest dolly in a 
lovely row. 

Pinned another note that said, "Yes, dear, I'll be 
your valentine." 

Then he wrapped it up in paper and he tied it 
up in twine. 

Little Gracie was at supper when the bell went 

ting a ling, 
And she said, "Why there's the postman, 
Oh, I wonder what he'll bring." 
Through the hall 
Pattered small 

63 



Eager feet and then a call, 

"Papa, mamma, Florence, here's the dearest val- 
entine of all; 

It's that lovely, lovely dolly in a satin dress — Oh, 
Oh, 

Isn't she as sweet — as sweet as — most as sweet 
as Uncle Joe!" 



64 



A LOVELY TIME. 

When I was a girl in youth's fair clime 

All my thought was "a lovely time." 

A perfectly lovely time indeed 

Was the length and the depth and the height of 

my need. 
I said, I will work and think and plan 
To have just as good a time as I can; 
And life shall be, when I come to my prime, 
That grand, sweet song called "A Lovely Time." 

Well now with my love for my brothers four, 
My sisters and parents and neighbors a score, 
My friends who number a hundred and three, 
And my own adorable family, 
My love for my baby, my love for my home, 
My love for all lovers wherever they roam, 
My busy life, like a silver chime, 
Is a lovely tune to a lovely time. 



65 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium O: 
Treatment Date: July 2009 

PreservationTechnol 

A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRES 

111 Tbomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Township, PA 161 
(724)779-2111 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 570 576 9 






